Life's no Hollywood film
by nepetation
Summary: It's been three years since the war ended, and Grif still can't get over that he didn't say anything while he had the chance. (grimmons, drabble)


**/AN: Written for tumblr user stairswarning, whose prompt I really hope I did justice for./**

With the end of the war came short celebration and long goodbyes before the Blood Gulch Crew split to go their own ways, this time not likely to come back together. There was some talk about someday meeting again, but Grif knew those plans would fall through. He was sure he wasn't the only one to turn down Donut's invitation to visit in Iowa.

When he returned home there was a taste in his mouth of words he should have said but kept secret. He kicked himself around for months because of it, because what other chance would he get to tell Simmons he loved him? Sure, they seemed to be friends while the war was going on, but now that they'd been sent back, there was no doubt in Grif's mind that he wouldn't be seeing the other again.

His return to his home in Hawaii brought feelings of nostalgia, which he decided would be best to pretend wasn't there. There was no sense on dwelling over what he'd missed in not telling his fellow Red he felt. Sure he could maybe, go on some heartfelt mission to track the guy down and spill his heart out then, but he didn't think Simmons would be too appreciative of being stalked. Life was no Hollywood film, that was for sure.

He carried in though, despite his absolute regret toward what he didn't do all that time ago. Even three years later, it still physically hurt to know that if he had said something, he probably would have been turned down anyway. He never once expected to have his feelings returned (being one reason why he didn't say anything), but in hindsight it would have at least given Grif closure to confess. Either way, he wouldn't see that perfect nerd ever again.

Or so he thought.

He was on his way home with an armload of sweets and processed food when something familiar caught his eye. Down the street quite a way, that lanky figure, the familiar gait, the glint of sunlight on a patchwork of metal where there used to be human skin. There was no way it could be him- and yet it just had to be.

No second thoughts came to the ex-trooper before he abandoned his items and broke into a run. Well, he would have liked to say he did; in reality it was closer to a steady jog. He hadn't been very fit during the war and he wasn't fit after. Besides, what kind of reunion would it be if he was panting and sweaty?

This was it, this was his second chance. He played in his head what he would say once he reached Simmons, calling for his attention in the mean time.

"Grif!" The taller man's voice held no surprise toward seeing his old friend, something more like relief. He thrust a hand out toward Grif, who took one look at it and rolled his eyes. Same old Simmons. "I- I've been looking for you for uh-"

The cyborg stammered, this time really being surprised, when Grif ignored his offer at a handshake and just dove straight for a tight embrace. "Yeah, whatever, man," he said, muffled in other's chest and through a growing smile. In that moment, with the two hugging like they hadn't seen one another in years (mostly because they actually hadn't) something in Grif shifted to make him just fuck tiptoeing around and just- oh to hell with it-

Grif went in for a kiss. All this time fretting over telling Simmons that he loved him and he'd just completely skipped over that, and now Simmons was kissing him back and oh god why hadn't he done this the first time around? The kiss wasn't long lasting- only a few seconds- because then Grif might have gotten a little over zealous and backed the other man into a hedge. Whoops.

"Shit! I had this all planned out- I-I was going to… and you just waltz right over and-" Grif took a moment to laugh at the grumbles and swears being directed at him as he helped the taller man to right himself again. The look of daggers he was getting only made him laugh more. "Alright, no! Fuck you, Grif and your spontaneous kisses, because we are going to do this right."

A firm grip on his hand and a yank that sent him stumbling forward finally brought the Hawaiin to his senses, "Wait. Wait, what? Where are we going?"

"The sun's starting to set so a romantic walk on the beach." Simmons kept and authoritative tone, or at least tried to. His voice cracked in the way it always did when he was nervous and his hand was sweaty. But that wasn't why Grif was trying to wrestle himself free.

"But I just bought a ton of shit! I was planing on shitty action movies and Hostess cakes!" Grif wasn't whining, oh definitely not. He gestured wildly in the direction of his discarded bags and boxes of food he'd ditched just moments ago. Obviously he wouldn't have if he'd known he wouldn't be able to go back and retrieve them.

Simmons gave out a short laugh, "All the more reason to get you some exercise then."

They went on for a while like that, bickering and pulling at their clasped hands. In other words, even after three years of separation, not much changed. Well, aside from the fact that they could kiss each other now.


End file.
